“It was nothing you did knowingly,” said Baley, wanting to stop but unable to quit probing. “What if Gremionis had learned from Dr. Fastolfe how to—”
“Gremionis didn’t know Dr. Fastolfe and couldn’t have understood anything Dr. Fastolfe might have told him, anyhow.”
“You can’t know for certain what Gremionis might or might not understand and, as for not knowing Dr. Fastolfe—Gremionis must have been frequently, in your establishment if he hounded you so and—”
“And Dr. Fastolfe was almost never in my establishment. Last night, when he came with you, it was only the second time he had crossed my threshold. He was afraid that to be too close to me would drive me away. He admitted that once. He lost his daughter that way, he thought—something foolish like that.—You see, Elijah, when you live several centuries, you have plenty of time to lose thousands of things. Be thankful for short life, Elijah.” She was weeping uncontrollably.
Baley looked and felt helpless. “I’m sorry, Gladia. I have no more questions. Shall I call a robot? Will you need help?”
She shook her head and waved her hand at him. “Just go away—go away,” she said in a strangled voice. “Go away.”
Baley hesitated and then strode out of the room, taking one last, uncertain look at her as he walked out the door. Giskard followed in his footsteps and Daneel joined him as he left the house. He scarcely noticed. It occurred to him, abstractedly, that he was coming to accept their presence as he would have that of his shadow or of his clothing, that he was reaching a point where he would feel bare without them.
He walked rapidly back toward the Fastolfe establishment his mind churning. His desire to see Vasilia had at first been a matter of desperation, a lack of any other object of curiosity, but now things had changed. There was just a chance that he had stumbled on something vital.
34
Fastolfe’s homely face was set in grim lines when Baley returned.
“Any progress?” he asked.
“I eliminated part of a possibility.—Perhaps.”
“Part of a possibility? How do you eliminate the other part? Better yet, how do you establish a possibility?”
Baley said, “By finding it impossible to eliminate a possibility, a beginning is made at establishing one.”
“And if you find it impossible to eliminate the other part of the possibility you mysteriously mentioned?”
Baley shrugged. “Before we waste our time considering that, I must see your daughter.”
Fastolfe looked dejected. “Well, Mr. Baley, I did as, you asked me to do and tried to contact her. It was necessary to awaken her.”
“You mean she is in part of the planet where it is night? I hadn’t thought of that.” Baley felt chagrined. “I’m afraid I’m fool enough to imagine I’m on Earth still. In underground Cities, day and night lose their meaning and time tends to be uniform.”
“It’s not that bad. Eos is the robotics center of Aurora and you’ll find few roboticists who live out of it. She was simply sleeping and being awakened did not improve her temper, apparently. She would not speak to me.”
“Call again,” said Baley urgently.
“I spoke to her secretarial robot and there was an uncomfortable relaying of messages. She made it quite plain she will not speak to me in any fashion. She was a little more flexible with you. The robot announced that she would give you five minutes on her private viewing channel, if you call—Fastolfe consulted the time-strip on the wall in half an hour. She will not see you in person under any conditions.”
“The conditions are insufficient and so is the time. I must see her in person for as long as is needed. Did you explain the importance of this, Dr. Fastolfe?”
“I tried.—She is not concerned.”
“You are her father. Surely—”
“She is less inclined to bend her decision for my sake than for a randomly chosen stranger. I knew this, so I made use of Giskard.”
“Giskard?”
“Oh yes. Giskard is a great favorite of hers. When she was studying robotics at the university, she took the liberty of adjusting some minor aspects of his programming—and nothing makes for a closer relationship with a robot than that—except for Gladia’s method, of course. It was almost as though Giskard were Andrew Martin—”
“Who is Andrew Martin?”
“Was, not is,” said Fastolfe. “You have never heard of him?”
“Never!”
“How odd! These ancient legends of ours all have Earth as their setting, yet on Earth they are not known.—Andrew Martin was a robot who, gradually, step by step, was supposed to have become humaniform. To be sure, there have been humaniform robots before Daneel, but they were all simple toys, little—more than automatons. Nevertheless, amazing stories are told of the abilities of Andrew Martin—a sure sign of the legendary nature of the tale. There was a woman who was part of the legends who is usually known as Little Miss. The relationship is too complicated to describe now, but I suppose that every little girl on Aurora has daydreamed of being Little Miss and of having Andrew Martin as a robot. Vasilia did and Giskard was her Andrew Martin.”
“Well, then?”
“I asked her robot to tell her that you would be accompanied by Giskard. She hasn’t seen him in years and I thought that might lure her into agreeing to see you.”
“But it didn’t, I presume.”
“It didn’t.”
“Then we must think of something else. There must be some way of inducing her to see me.”
Fastolfe said, “Perhaps you will think of one. In a few minutes, you will view her on trimensic and you will have. Five minutes to convince her that she ought to see you personally.”
“Five minutes! What can I do in five minutes?”
“I don’t know. It is better, after all, than nothing.”
35
Fifteen minutes later, Baley stood before the trimensional viewing screen, ready to meet Vasilia Fastolfe.
Dr. Fastolfe had left, saying, with a wry smile, that his presence would certainly make his daughter less amenable to persuasion. Nor was Daneel present. Only Giskard remained behind to keep Baley company.
Giskard said, “Dr. Vasilia’s trimensic channel is open for reception. Are you ready, sir?”
“As ready as I can be,” said Baley grimly. He had refused to sit, feeling he might be more imposing if he were standing. (How imposing could an Earthman be?)
The screen grew bright as the rest of the room dimmed and a woman appeared in rather uncertain focus, at first. She was standing facing him, her right hand resting, on a laboratory bench laden with sets of diagrams. (No doubt she planned to be imposing, too.)
As the focus sharpened, the edges of the screen seemed to melt away and the image of Vasilia (if it were she) deepened and became three-dimensional. She was standing in the room with every sign of solid reality, except that the decor of the room she was in, did not match the room Baley was in and the break was a sharp one.
She was wearing a dark brown skirt that divided into loose trouser legs that were semitransparent, so that her legs, from midthigh down, were shadowily visible. Her blouse was tight and sleeveless, so that her arms were bare to the shoulder. Her neckline was low and her hair, quite blond, was in tight curls.
She had none of her father’s plainness and certainly not his large ears. Baley could only assume she had had a beautiful mother and was fortunate in the allotment of genes.
She was short and Baley could see a remark able resemblance to Gladia in her facial features, although her expression was far colder and seemed to bear the mark of a dominating personality.
She said sharply, “Are you the Earthman come to solve my father’s problems?”